


Mori the Dreamer: Redux

by DxTURA



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 15:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DxTURA/pseuds/DxTURA
Summary: A revision of a story I did back in May 2016 out of inspiration from backing the Kickstarter 1001 Knights!Originally Posted 12/7/16





	Mori the Dreamer: Redux

Like a metal bar that has slammed against the ground, two weapons that clashed resonated in two duelist’s ears. One weapon – a rapier – bent backward as its target, the longsword, advanced forward in the heat of the moment. The two slivers of silver continued to slam against one another, and with all the sound that it made one would think the blades would have broken by now. They did not, and they would not. Not when their owners knew when to back off.

A low chuckle came from one duelist, “Mori, your timing on the strikes have lost their rigidness. I’m proud.”

The one named Mori backflipped onto her toes, slicing the air as she placed a hand on her hip, “Don’t patronize me, Morga. You know that agitates me!”

Morga sprinted towards her once more, using both hands to strike against her edge. “You say this, but I know what truly agitates you: the fear of never becoming a knight.”

There was a scowl and Mori deterred him, teeth flashing through her sibling’s curved lips as he waved his sword around. He shrugged.

“Alba Ner only became an Elite because he was a man, remember?” That line alone caused Mori to lunge, but he quickly sidestepped. “Women aren’t allowed in the tournament, remember? Much less _cockroach_ women.”

The correct term for Mori and her family were “Duskmen” – sometimes shortened to “Dusky” when merely talking about one. They were people whose skin could be compared to the midnight sky, albeit a bit browner in hue. “Cockroach” was a term used by the wealthy to discriminate them, as well as deter other people from looking their way. It always struck a chord with Mori, and whenever the word slipped out of someone’s mouth she grew irate in minutes.

The first time she had ever heard it was in the middle of the Odelle Market Strip on her first day of tending to the market. All women were required to work the marketplace by the time they turned 14, and Mori – owning a fruit business thanks to the hard work of her mother – was merely inheriting what already existed. She was destined to be the owner of the Fey business, even though all she ever wanted in life was to be a knight.

Being a knight would allow her to grow stronger, and let’s not get started on the payment she would receive. With the amount of money they make, she could pay for the cottage they rented out fast!

Still she had to start off small, and what better way than to try out the selling business on the first day? Each merchant would sell up to three types of produce, and the two fruits that Mori and her mother were proficient at growing were none other than apples and watermelon. Her mother almost always sold out when they were prepared, and she hoped that day would be the day she would do the same.

Her hopes, unfortunately, were crushed when she found herself yanked by her long, ginger locks and thrown against one of the wheelbarrows.

Mori had always heard stories about her mother being tormented on the streets. She didn’t think she’d be subjected to the same treatment by a random patron.

“The Fey family still tryin’ to make do off of garbage like this?” He had pulled an apple out of the barrel and crushed it beneath his fingers. “Disgusting. When will you finally give up on making money?”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she said nothing; the harassment only continued the moment he picked her by tugging at her hair again. “Didn’t realize Aria had a daughter.”

Mori had finally pulled herself out of his grip when he spoke again, “Regardless, it’s not like anyone in this kingdom will acknowledge you for anything other than food. Look at your skin – your traits!” He crushed another apple beneath his fingers, “Cockroaches don’t make it here, much less _female_ roaches. You’re better off dead.”

Mori could never recall what happened after he said that, but she knew it involved brute force and anger merging into one. One moment she was trying to disengage from the conversation, the next moment she had thrown the man’s body against the piles of fruits she spent hours putting together. Onlookers gasped, some people panicked, but it didn’t bother her. She would throw down anyone who came before her and insulted her entire being.

Unfortunately, she would come to find that she didn’t just recall a flashback, but she did the same in the present. Upon snapping out of it did she find both of her hands gripping Morga’s wrist and the poor boy tossed against the ground like a ragdoll. He cackled.

“Where’d you learn to do _that_?!”

“Ah, geez! S-sorry, Morga,” Mori pulled him back up to his feet, dusting all the mindless pieces of dirt and grass off his clothes that she possibly could. “You said cockroaches, and I immediately thought of…”

“Oh, that one guy from the markets? Man, mom was so mad when she ran into town and found all of the precious food destroyed!” Morga pushed Mori’s hand away, mouthing a small thank you as he pat his hair, “She took your entire doll collection away for a week, didn’t she?”

“And my wooden sword. Though, I guess that was mostly because she didn’t want me to be a knight, either,” Mori scratched the back of her head, “I played a little dirty by throwing you down like that… I blame the Elites, truthfully.”

“You have every right to after the King pulled off that ridiculous stunt in the Semi-Finals!” Morga exclaimed, “Using the legendary _Twin_ Elites against you? That’s almost cheating!”

“There’s something fishy about the way they’re organizing these battles, but I do remember Alba mentioning that they would cheat to ensure the applicants lose. I got lucky.” Mori whipped her head left and right, dragging both now found swords by the hilts until both weapons were between them. “I can’t slip up again.”

“Well, still. I think this extra practice will be enough to get you through the final round. You’ll be able to come home with bragging rights once you get through this last battle,” Morga stretched, finally using both of his hands to sheath the sword back into its cover slung against his back, “Shouldn’t you be heading back to the colosseum? The final match will be starting soon.”

“Oh geez, you’re right! I need to get back into disguise again!”

Mori let her hair fall once more before tying it back into a ponytail, adjusting her tattered tunic and pants before swishing around to ensure that her movements were still as swift as she remembered. Thanks to the extra bagginess, it was hard to tell her gender just through clothes alone; she would think of a permanent way to look boyish later. It was time.

Turning back to Morga, she gave him one big hug – lingering around for a while before finally letting go and stepping back. He pat her on the shoulder, a small smile still pricking at the corner of his lips as he spoke.

“You’re almost done with this. Don’t forget who you’re fighting for, and knock ‘em dead.”

She merely nodded, turning on her heel one moment and breaking into a sprint the next towards the Colosseum Dome.

The King’s Court, also known as the Elite Court, were filled with the people that saw themselves higher than anything else on the world: The Dawnmen. The organization were a group of 20 men that took control over both political and economical sides of Mori’s village: Terra. Each man had a reason for being there, whether it was for the fame or the fortune, and in recent years 20 more recruits attempting to enter the coalition. The eerie outcome of this, however, was the sheer fact that all 20 men would die within the first few months after applying. For a while, the King’s Court refused to deliver any information about the situation. They also refused to let newbies apply.

This is where Mori’s “final match” came in. The Court finally declared annual tournaments that would allow the people of Terra to fight for a chance to rival their highest-ranking knights. The twenty civilians that would typically apply for a position would now have to pit themselves against each other. Mori and Morga trained every day for the moment, and when the time came she found herself granted the opportunity to do so.

Even though Mori found herself in first place, she still found some of the tournament’s system to be both unfair and unreasonable.

For starters, Duskmen were judged even harder than Dawnmen. Alba Ner, her brother whom became an Elite for years also was a personal witness to this. The night he returned home for a celebratory feast, he spoke about the trouble encountered in and out of the ranks. “They purposely chose the veterans with the intentions of making them lose,” Mori remembered him saying.

The next was to be expected, but it still made her angry: Women were prohibited from participating in any of these events. Period. Being a double minority in this scenario, Mori was unamused. She wasted no time in allowing anger to fuel her actions. Ladies could put up a fight, too!

She wanted to prove this to the best of her ability, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to persuade the event admins. The only reason she could come this far is because Morga – who was initially going to enter – switched places. Being twins, the two of them swapped wardrobes day in and day out – having to make up excuses to their mother as to why they were always in each other’s rooms throughout the day.

Sparring with Morga on a day to day basis helped her come this far. By the end of her training, she was under the belief that she could do anything.

Mori made her way into the colosseum again, and the size never seemed to shock her. Large seemed to be an understatement, and she could only guesstimate that there were a few thousand-people sitting on the floors and in the stands. No one cheered when she came in, there were only quiet mutterings here and there.

Suddenly, the announcer’s voice – a female who seemed to be too excited for the event – began to speak, “There he is: the unstoppable Morga Fey! Considering Alba Ner is his brother, you can’t be too surprised that he’s come this far. Their kind hasn’t come this far in the tournaments in a couple of years now.”

His kind? What were they, some type of dog? Mori had to keep her composure; she mustered enough strength to maintain a stoic expression, and not unleash her anger on the girl right then and there.

The announcer continued, “A deal is deal, no regardless of the person in question. Morga Fey has gained the opportunity to prove her worth against the strongest knight in all the Court! Sturdy like a column, anger fit enough to be a bull’s, please welcome: Ser Beau!”

Throughout the entire tournament, Mori was required to stand on a circular platform and make do with the room that she had. It was a little larger than Terra’s average ponds and gave her enough room to maneuver around, but she had come to find that her opponents love to use the plane to their advantage. When Mori felt the floor shake, and “whomps” cause vibrations she knew for a fact that she would be dealing with someone larger than anyone else in the competition.

What she _didn’t_ expect was the fact that Ser Beau – betraying his name – looked as ugly as the Orcs that she had read in children’s books. Her opponent sniggered at her expression, quickly unsheathing the two-handed Warhammer from his back.

“You’re small, like a stick.” was all he snorted.

“You say this, but I’ll be sure to prove my worth against you.” Mori retorted, revealing her own weapon.

Beau slung the large contraption over his shoulder, flashing a toothy grin towards her direction before walking to his side of the platform. All contesters were required to start from an equal amount of feet away; this gave time for the two of them to think about what to do before acting.

After the two exchanged looks they turned to the announcer, who simply darted her eyes between them before whistling with two of her fingers. That was the signal to start fighting.

Beau wasted no time in charging for Mori’s small frame, but the Dusky wasn’t going to let him take her down so easily.

He swung the hammer at her, only to find that the weight of the weapon cracked the floor and missed. When he looked around, he found her regaining balance through a backflip before propelling towards his back. The moment he took notice his pudgy hands snatched her leg and launched her against the ground. She winced, slowly sitting up as she kept her eyes on him.

“I’ve been watching your scrawny ass since the moment you came in. I’m aware of the tricks you pull, mutt!”

He sprang for her body again, hammer aiming for her body again but Mori was quick enough to roll out of the way. She got a better glimpse of the hammer now that she was breaking sweats to avoid it; gold-plated, spiked on the front and back, this Beau guy was doing more than just testing her to become a knight. She speculated he was rooting for her _demise_!

Forcing herself back to her feet, Mori twirled her rapier around before hopping to avoid more slams against the ground.

‘ _That hammer will cause the floor to cave in, and I think that’s his intention.’ She thought, ‘I’ll just have to tire him out at this rate._ ’

Beau sneered, “What’s wrong? The baby’s tired already?”

Mori shrugged, shaking her head all the while. “I heard rumors that the Court was going to be unfair to Duskmen like me, but now I see there’s more to it than that.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. That hammer isn’t any ol’ hammer used for spars,” She cried out, “Your lot is trying to get the contesters killed! Your ilk are nothing but a bunch of brutes, I’ll say.”

Beau didn’t bother with a response, the hammer launched like a boomerang was enough to gain her attention. Try as she might, Mori gripped her hilt with both hands and attempted to spike the hammer downward to halt the incoming onslaught. She thought that was all, up until her rapier was knocked out of her hand and her body was slammed against by a sudden loaf of muscle.

There was a gasp when dust formed from the body slam. The announcer did nothing but cheer, “Beau is _ready_ for his win, folks! This is second time he’s knocked Morga against the ground!”

Mori squirmed beneath him, eyes squint shut as strained grunts slipped through her teeth. His weight cracked the floor further, was sure to bring some pain to her own bones, but she couldn’t give in now. She had to struggle free.

Beau leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “You’re pretty ill-bred if you’re spouting claims like that, boy… but I suppose I do have to give you some credit. I might as clear your pretty boy head of any suspicions, seeing as you’re going to die in the next few minutes.”

More weight came on her body, and she did all she could to bite back yelps of pain.

“We never needed more Elites. More soldiers,” He set more weight on her, “We just like to see how naïve the people of Terra can be. You’d be surprised how many of these buffoons have enlisted themselves into the ranks blindly, like sheep following their farmer. Such fools you know? We wondered if they would ever get it.”

An outraged yowl finally came out of Mori’s mouth, balling up like a spider would before extending both her arms and legs out to push him away. She held onto her waist for a moment, a weak attempt to soothe the pain as she finally hopped to her feet again and bore fists instead. Her rapier was nowhere nearby; she had to improvise.

“We were already aware that all of the greenies were going to die, it’s just how we Elites are taught. The smaller the population, the better for the king to control,” He reached for his hammer, voice low but still loud enough so the only two that could hear were the announcer and Mori herself. “I have to admit, though, Alba Ner was an interesting soul to say the least.”

She lowered her guard a little upon hearing his name. What did he mean by that?

“He was the only dark-skinned Elite we had in years, and _everyone hated him_ ,” Beau snorted, “He was appointed the riskiest missions we could think of, but he was still alive at the end of it! For a while we docked our own pay just to see if he would kick the bucket. It was disheartening to most to say the least.”

He rushed towards her again, hammer cocked back and ready to strike.

Mori was ready to parry – at least, until – she heard his next line: “In the end, it doesn’t matter. The cockroach suffered the same fate as the rest of them!”

There it was again, that word she abhorred. Her gold eyes gleamed but then they hardened, and her parted mouth turned to pursed lips. The skin on her back prickled like cacti, and her nose hairs flared before she crouched down to leap in the air. Beau missed his chance, but she wasn’t going to miss hers; the amount of taunting he gave her was going on long enough!

She refused to think about her moves, and went with her flow instead; the unsteady beating of her heart, followed by the flushed face was a dead giveaway of her kettle-hot rage. When his back faced her she dove forward with a kick, knocking wind out of him upon aiming for his neck. The attack was enough to have him drop the hammer too, and now was her chance to end it.

From the kick, she proceeded to backflip, and no sooner did she slide beneath his massive body to grip onto the hammer and lift it with as much strength as she possibly could. She knew she was injured. She knew her body was aching and the weight of the weapon wasn’t helping, but she cared less. Wasting no time she started to swing, screaming in Beau’s face with each strike against his armor.

“Alba was not a cockroach,” There was a dent on the armor’s side, “nor are any of the Duskmen,” another dent right on the breastplate, “and I refuse to let you slander our name _any longer_!”

Each blow unleashed weak yowls from the burly man, and Mori only released the hammer after swinging against his chest a couple more times. Like a dead tree, he fell over, and no sooner did Mori hop away to take witness to the floor finally yielding. Her arms grew limp like noodles and she fell to her knees, but one thing was certain: She survived the day, and won the tournament.

Mori shouldn’t have expected applause from the get-go, but the small part of her that wasn’t looking at her actions like a sin wanted praise for what she had done. She was able to win the tournament, and – in all technicalities – prove that women could face the dangerous she did… but was it really worth it in the end? What would the crowd think about her irritation taking a toll through all of this? Beau wasn’t dead, she merely brought him to a weakened state, but that didn’t stop her anxiety.

Her thoughts were broken by the sudden cheer of the announcer: “Would you look at that, folks?! Like his brother, Morga Fey has remained undefeated and is crowned the champion of this year’s tournament!”

A wave of screams swept the crowd, and no sooner did Mori take witness to men, women, and children of all ages clapping, hopping, and whooping out her brother’s name. She had won the approval of the audience; she wanted to question how, but at the same time she felt that it was best not to push her luck. Small winces escaped her as she took the moment to bow in gratitude, and a grin that flashed her pearly whites formed on her face. She loved it.

The announcer was thrilled, grabbing Mori’s hand with both of hers and shaking it with little mind to her wounds. “Congratulations, Morga Fey! You will be awarded the golden shield and the privilege of becoming an Elite Knight like Ser Beau, here!” There was another wave of cheers, but the announcer took the moment to soothe the crowd before continuing, “Can we, as your audience, ask about your reasoning for joining and what you plan to do now that you can become a knight?”

Mori looked at her, then the audience again, and in no time reclaimed her hand before raising it high in the air.

“Alba Ner was a dreamer just like me! He was dark, proud, and good at what he did! I wanted to prove to others that Duskmen can do just about anything a Dawnman can, and I can do this now that I have won this honor before me. I want to open a gateway so someone like m- err, I mean, my sister can join the ranks one day, too!”

Her declaration spurred more cheers, and she took this time to limp off the platform; as much as she enjoyed the attention, the pain was getting to her, and she needed to the break. Regardless, Mori could genuinely say that she was proud of herself; she was one step closer to becoming the knight she always wanted to be… but she couldn’t help ponder what all was said in the match.

Day by day she was learning more that the King’s Court was not everything she dreamed of, but she was willing to make do with what it was. There would be trials ahead of her, and she wasn’t even sure if she would make it home alive, but she would worry about all of that later.

What she _needed_ to worry about now, however, was how her mother was going to react to this reckless plan of hers.


End file.
